


Cordovan

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: M/M, Self Confidence, more like let's make Kotetsu suffer the embarrassments of aging, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's..." Kotetsu groans again before continuing, holding his hand over his mouth so his words are muffled, "... <i>embarrassing</i>."</p>
<p>Grey hairs and Barnaby's observation skills in all the wrong moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cordovan

Getting up in the morning isn't usually a struggle for Barnaby, but Kotetsu is more than enough to make it damn near _impossible_.

Kotetsu likes to keep his (disgustingly strong) arms tucked around Barnaby, his grip tightening the longer the alarm rings, which could be a good while, if Kotetsu has his arms pinned right. He groans sleepily, smiling into Barnaby's skin as he pulls him closer, as close as close can be, really, to keep him from escaping.

"Five more minutes," he tries to bargain, and Barnaby gives a long sigh; while he does indeed enjoy how warm his bed and partner are, he also knows he won't be able to finish doing his hair if he doesn't get up now.

"I'll wake you up after I start the coffee?" Barnaby offers, and it takes a moment before Kotetsu seems to register the enjoyment of the promise of caffeine, finally letting his grip go loose, but not without a kiss to the corner of Barnaby's mouth, sleepy smile and all.

"I _guess_ so," Kotetsu teases in a tired drawl, closing his eyes again as Barnaby moves to get out of bed, stretching his legs a little before he actually stands and heads to the bathroom to wash his face.

Frowning when he realizes his facial wash (which is _not_ girly, Kotetsu just doesn't know how to care for his skin, the wrinkles on his forehead and under his eyes are proof enough of that) is out, he sinks to his knees, moving to open the cabinet beneath the sink to check for more, where he usually keeps any extra.

Barnaby is surprised to see that the things under the sink look... shoved around, really. Like Kotetsu has been blindly reaching around under here for God knows what. Curious with the disarray, Barnaby peers forward a little more, looking for what Kotetsu might have been digging around for; it's not like he keeps too much here, and none of it is really anything of interest.

Oh, except _that_.

Baffled, Barnaby tugs out a box he's not familiar with, furrowing his brows when he sits back to read what it says; he has to hold it very close to his face to read it properly without his glasses on. Something about Cordovan brown--

The battle cry (read: “wild roar!”) should have been enough to warn him, but Barnaby is still beyond stunned when he's practically shoved to the bathroom floor, the box under his previous scrutiny being wrenched out if his hands like only the _worst_ kind of contraband.

He's still amazed when he's sitting himself up, coming face to face with his partner-turned-assaulter in quiet awe, watching Kotetsu shove the box back under the sink and slamming the cabinet door shut, as if disposing of a goddamn bomb. He keeps his large hand pinned against the cabinet for a long minute after, like he's not sure if it's going to hide his secret-- doesn't matter, because Barnaby's already smirking with knowledge.

"Cordovan?" He purrs inquisitively, and it's a smug kind of delight that swells in him when Kotetsu's face goes an extraordinary shade of red.

"I-it's not what it looks like!" He protests loudly, like he hadn't just rolled out of bed not three minutes ago. "It's-- uh, y-you see, it's really--"

Bunny laughs a little, quiet chuckles, as he arches an eyebrow at Kotetsu's flustered babbling. "I don't really understand the issue," he says, trying to be gentle, which apparently counts for something, seeing as Kotetsu isn't clambering to get away from Barnaby’s special brand of prying for more information.

Instead, Kotetsu sighs loudly, almost _whimpers_ , actually; it’s a little bit pathetic, but only a little. He almost runs a hand through his hair, the subject of it all,  but thinks better of it and rubs the hand down his face instead, groaning.

"It's..." Kotetsu groans again before continuing, holding his hand over his mouth so his words are muffled, "... _embarrassing_."

Barnaby tries not to look to amused-- he likes teasing with Kotetsu, for sure, but certainly not humiliating him in ways that aren’t in jest. Especially when it's an issue that seems to hold a profound effect on him, like this seems to.

"Come here," Barnaby invites, holding his arms open. They probably look ridiculous, in the midst of a confrontation on the bathroom floor, but it'll have to do for the moment.

Kotetsu doesn't really make any moves to come closer, even with the invitation, and Barnaby clicks his tongue, scooting to close the gap between them. Kotetsu sighs again, in defeat basically, when Barnaby moves to cup his cheeks, fingers slowly sliding back into Kotetsu's hair. It's still very thick, at least, and Barnaby leans in a little, squinting a tiny bit as he strokes his fingers through Kotetsu's hair, seeking the grey-colored problem.

It's not much, but it's noticeable-- though, Barnaby _is_ technically actively looking for it. Grey, around the sides of his face, a bit around his ears, that disappears back into dark brown further back; not a total outbreak, really.

"I get mine dyed," Barnaby admits casually, as casually as one talks about the weather. Kotetsu's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, though Barnaby does not pause in his investigation, or makes a deal of his statement at all. "How else do you think I'd have such great highlights? I get it done at the salon. By _professionals_."

"That's..." For the umpteenth time, Kotetsu sighs, shoulders slumping. "That's different, though."

"Not really," Barnaby counters, his hands pausing for a moment before he withdraws them completely. "You just need it done by a professional is all-- whatever you're using for it now is absolutely _awful_."

Kotetsu's face might permanently stay the color of a traffic light, Barnaby notes silently. It almost looks like Kotetsu might say something, but he closes his mouth as quickly as he opens it, and looks a little like a dying fish with how he can’t seem to speak. He tilts his head away, gaze down, and Barnaby sighs-- it’s not like Kotetsu to be embarrassed or bashful, or even shamed with himself, but then again, Barnaby has never particularly seen Kotetsu battle with the forces inside of himself. The only thing Barnaby can think of akin to their current situation is the whole One Minute thing, and even _that_ is something Kotetsu has seemed to embrace, though, in just the right glance , the self-consciousness of even that matter can bubble to the surface.

Barnaby sighs, much more civil than Kotetsu’s loud, heaving sighs. “You’re overreacting.”

Kotetsu opens his mouth to spit out a very childish “no!” in retort, but, before he can voice it, Barnaby is shaking his head.

“This sort of thing hasn’t bothered you before,” Barnaby elaborates, very to the point, lest Kotetsu have another freak out in-wait of Barnaby’s words. “Besides, aren’t you forgetting your _favorite_ nickname, _old man_? That’s never bothered you this badly, either.”

Kotetsu makes a little face, very unamused with the name indeed, but shrugs his shoulders, pursing his lips a bit as he sorts out his thoughts to voice. “That’s totally not the same thing! That’s--” he makes a little noise of embarrassed frustration, “we weren’t… doing stuff together! And,” Kotetsu finally meets Barnaby’s gaze after a long effort of avoiding doing just that, and Barnaby is a little surprised at the look Kotetsu gives him, and the tone of his voice, “isn’t it a little… weird? Dating someone so _old-looking_?”

Kotetsu hardly has to finish his sentence before Barnaby is sighing, very exaggerated. He even rolls his eyes as he moves to stand up, holding his hands for Kotetsu to help himself up with. When they’re both on their feet, Barnaby moves to push Kotetsu to the bathroom counter (in the least seductive manner, he’s got a point to prove right now) and makes him look at his reflection in the mirror; his little look of surprise is kind of cute, but Barnaby digresses.

“So you have some grey hairs on your head and in your beard--”

“They’re not in my beard!” Kotetsu interrupts, tilting his chin up to get a better look at the two patches on his chin.

“And,” Barnaby continues, raising his voice a little so Kotetsu will pay attention, “you have bags under your eyes.” He taps the pads of his fingers to just under Kotetsu’s eyes, watching Kotetsu scrutinize himself in the mirror.

“You’re also getting wrinkles and crow’s feet--”

Oops. Kotetsu’s mouth drops open in an embarrassed gape at this information. “ _Bunny_! You’re really, _really_ not helping, y’know!”

Barnaby is quiet for a moment, which leaves Kotetsu a little worse for wear (read: a split second from absolutely freaking out), waiting for some kind of recognition, or maybe apology, from Barnaby’s blatant statements.

“...What I was _going_ to say,” Barnaby finally continues, Kotetsu letting out a soft sigh when he speaks again, “before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, is that--”

Barnaby’s hands move from holding Kotetsu’s face to wrapping around him, his hands pressing against Kotetsu’s chest as he holds him.

“-- _I don’t care_ ,” Barnaby finishes, making sure each words comes out clear and concise. Kotetsu moves to turn around, and Barnaby allows him this, so that they’re looking eye-to-eye, even though Barnaby doesn’t have his glasses on and he squints a little bit in result. Kotetsu isn’t sure if he should be on-edge or relieved with the statement initially, but Barnaby’s hands moving to cup his face again and Barnaby’s lips brushing against his, relaying messages that can only be transferred through connected silence, sways him to relief, sighing against his partner’s mouth gently. They’re chaste kisses, Barnaby’s hands drifting from Kotetsu’s jaw to his chest, Kotetsu’s hands sitting carefully at the sides of Barnaby’s warm neck, but they speak multitudes against any conversation they could carry out; reassurance is more believable via taste, Kotetsu thinks with a smile.

Barnaby pulls away first, not because he’s bored of kisses (really, it’s disgusting how he can’t seem to tire of Kotetsu’s mouth on his), but because he still has more to say, and Kotetsu watches him, a little more confident now in what Barnaby might say to him.

“People are _supposed_ to age,” Barnaby says easily, letting his hands fall slowly from Kotetsu’s chest. “It’d be pretty hypocritical to stop loving someone for them naturally aging, don’t you think?”

Kotetsu laughs a little, flustered, but at least it’s in a good way, from their kisses. “Yeah, you’re right,” he nods, smiling more and more with the seconds that pass.

Deciding his Samaritan deed is done for the day, and that he really needs to get ready, Barnaby smiles a little, smacking his hand lightly against Kotetsu’s arm. “If that’s all you needed, move. Some of us actually do more than put on clean clothes for work, you know.”

Kotetsu is _beaming_ at this point, and he ducks in to kiss Barnaby’s cheek before stepping out of the way. “You’re too good to an old man like me, Bunny,” he teases as he steps back into the bedroom. Barnaby hears Kotetsu drop back down onto the bed, smiling to himself as he finally gets to the act of washing his face for the day.

When he finishes, Barnaby moves to grab his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. He _almost_ does just that, _almost_ can go on with his morning with no more bumps in the road, but something there catches his attention as well. Barnaby doesn’t really keep pills in the medicine cabinet (which is a little bit ironic), but he notes a particular white bottle with a light blue labeling, that’s totally not his own--

Barnaby turns the little vial towards him, has to lean forward to read it properly, and almost feels his face burst into flame just _seeing_ the word _Viagra_.

He shoves the damn bottle into the corner of the cabinet, yanking out his toothbrush and closing the door on it. A matter for another day, he tells himself, and promptly focuses on brushing his teeth instead of trying to guess how many pills are in that stupid bottle, or trying to figure out how often Kotetsu has had to turn to those infamous blue tablets, moving to the kitchen to start the coffee with his toothbrush still hanging out of his lips.


End file.
